The Diary of 1886- By Mrs Hudson
by an ounce of shag tobacco
Summary: It appears that in the year of our Lord 1886, Mrs Hudson, owner of 221b Baker Street, keeps a diary of all the goings on in the lives of not only herself, but of her lodgers, the esteemed Sherlock Holmes and his friend Dr Watson. For only now is the life of a long suffering housekeeper revealed! Expect mystery, murder and most definitely a pot of tea!
1. January 1st

_Well, well! I'm glad our dear house keeper has taken up a hobby between her good care of me and Holmes. -Dr John Watson_

_I knew Mrs Hudson had been doing something; Cooking, cleaning, sewing… Not writing a book. For goodness sake read the damn thing or I won't hear the end of it. – Mr Sherlock Holmes_

**_1_****_st_****_ January 1886_**

Well, it is a brand new year and once again a new diary to fill (Courtesy of Dr Watson.) I have made a short list of things I wish to accomplish over the upcoming year:

Take a steam train to Devon to visit my sister.

Have a key copied for Mr Holmes' room. (He is forever locking himself in and never allowing me and dear Dr Watson in. I respect his privacy but when he refuses to see anyone when he is deathly ill I must make exceptions.)

Make a different flavour conserve. Although Dr Watson favours strawberry, a woman my age needs variety in her life!

Meet the Queen. (Quite a possibility when living with Mr Holmes.)

5- One has not quite thought of this one yet. Hopefully something will come up.

Oh I have had such a lovely day. Both Mr Holmes and Dr Watson greeted me with high spirits when I went up to lay out their breakfasts. Dr Watson was already ready at the table whereas Mr Holmes was sat in his chair smoking his pre-breakfast pipe over a copy of the Times.

"Anything in the paper Holmes? Oh thank you Mrs Hudson! Happy New Year."

"No, nothing worth my interest… Good morning Mrs Hudson. No, everyone is still asleep no doubt. Even the criminals are still in bed."

"Hmm, Well something… Mrs Hudson this is superb! Something will come up old chap, do not worry."

At this, Mr Holmes huffed and tapped his pipe on the side of the fireplace before standing up and taking a seat at the table. I thanked Dr Watson for his heart warming compliments and wished them both a good day and to dress soon in case they would have to greet visitors.

I did not see either of them until eight… No, I lie! I saw Dr Watson leave for practice, but I believe I heard Mr Holmes leave earlier today on one of his errands. He had not returned when I took dinner up for them and had still not arrived when I went up to bring the plates down. If I am lucky, he will ask me for something when he gets back, goodness knows when that will be. I must go and ask the doctor if he would care for a cup of tea before he goes up to bed. I know this weather does havoc on his shoulder and I know a hot cup of tea raises his spirits. After I myself must go to bed so I can rise for an early morning. Good night.


	2. January 2nd

**_2nd January _**

Today I visit Mrs Turner, the landlady at 223 Baker Street. I had to go. Mr Holmes kept changing the rhythm of his pacing and it was distracting me from my cleaning. Mrs Turner has a new resident in her lodgings and had invited me round to ask for my advice considering my position of homing the world's only con- (What was it? He corrects me every time but by then I have already stopped listening) detective. Turns out her lodger, a Miss Taylor, had been the most pleasant of companions to the lonely Mrs Turner and had joined her in the evenings for some tea. Miss Taylor has lived in the room upstairs for almost a week now and Mrs Turner finds her a most respected lodger. I replied by asking if she 'shoots at the walls' or 'leaves awful smelling chemicals around' or 'leaves holes in the hearth rug.' Luckily for Mrs Turner, Miss Taylor does not and I told her this.

"Surely Dr Watson does not do that?" Mrs Turner exclaimed.

"Oh no! Not the doctor! No, he is most caring and considerate. No, it is Mr Holmes." I said quickly, sipping at the tea I had been given.

"I was going to say… I didn't expect Dr Watson to do that. However, Mr Holmes… Well, he is another kettle of fish."

I nodded. "He looms over me at that height. The sitting room is barely visible when he has a case; All that smoking! Not to mention the breakages, the late night returns, the violin playing at three in the morning… But I would not want any other man to live under my roof."

Mrs Turner must have thought me mad; I myself think just that! But it is true. Both him and Dr Watson, I see them as my own. I make sure meals are prepared for them, baths are drawn, beds are made, clothes are cleaned and shoes are scrubbed. I did hire a young girl to help me with it all but I wanted to do it all myself. (Plus she was terribly clumsy. Always dropping things she was.) Five years they have lodged with me and frankly they have been some of the greatest most thrilling five years of my life! And to think of all the times I was going to send them off packing… I bear not think of them.

Anyway, after me and Mrs Turner ran out of conversation, we parted and I returned to 221b to find Mr Holmes sat on the stairs it what appeared to be utter dismay.

"Mr Holmes! What on earth is the matter?" I asked, slightly worried. He had his sleeves rolled up to reveal a gash on his arm and a bump on his forehead.

"It is all wrong Mrs Hudson. I was wrong. How can that be?" He voice broke slightly at the end as his brow creased in thought. I sighed and beckoned him to come down the stairs.

"Come down here and we will talk about it over a cup of tea. Does that sound alright?"

He nodded and stood up, the blood dripping from his arm.

"Can you get Watson?"

"Of course. You go in there and I'll find Billy and get him to fetch the doctor. Lucky the poor lad is not here… You'd have scared him half to death!"

As Mr Holmes wandered into the kitchen, I stood in the doorway in search of our boy. He was stood across the street and I called to him to get Dr Watson before returning to Mr Holmes. He had sat himself at the table, his free hand wrapped round his cut in an attempt to stop the bleeding. I made my way round the table to the stove and started up a fire, hanging a pot of water on the top to boil.

"What happened?" I asked, winding the wash towel round his arm. Mr Holmes winced and let out an aggravated sigh.

"I found something to occupy myself with," He muttered, fiddling with sugar bowl. "Unfortunately that thing had a knife and a mean fist, unexpected from my better judgement."

I gave him a weak smile.

"Well I will not force you to tell me more about it; no doubt you will tell Dr Watson when he gets here to patch you up properly." I said. I went over to pot of now boiled water and filled a tea pot and placing it on the table. We both sat for twenty minutes until the latch on the door could be heard and Dr Watson burst into the room.

"My goodness Holmes! What on earth have you done?"

Mr Holmes tutted and rolled his eyes, holding out his injured arm. Dr Watson sighed seating himself next to him and fishing a variety of items out of his bag. I offered Dr Watson a cup of tea, to which he did not refuse.

Once Mr Holmes was sorted, my lodgers returned upstairs. I told them I would be up in an hour with their dinner. It is cooking now actually and should be ready shortly. I thought I could use this spare time to document the day's goings on and as you can see it has been very eventful. Bless them! As much as I loathe their faults at times, I adore them like sons.


	3. January 3rd

**_3_****_rd_****_ January_**

Good morning! I have taken breakfast up for Mr Holmes and Dr Watson early today as I wish to do some shopping. Mr Wyette posted a note through the door yesterday to let me know of the new range of Pear's soap he has stocked. It must sound positively tedious to you, but the subject fascinates me tremendously! I am a woman with not much to my name; however I can tell you what brand of soap one of Mr Holmes' clients has been using by just the smell. Mr Holmes does not expect a woman to have her own skills other than sewing and cooking and when an opportunity arises I shall prove him wrong. I should like to think that he will be impressed by it. Anyway, I ought to go up and collect the plates and wash them before I set off.

Well, well! What a day I have had! This year has certainly started off very well. I visited Mr Wyette's shop early as I had mentioned and he showed me such a variety of different items, I found it hard to stay within the one pound and 5 shillings budget. However, I have returned with 10 shillings still jangling in my purse. You see, I brought four bars of soap at three pennies, all of the week's groceries for five shillings and another ball of yarn with a new pair of needles. I used to knit when I was younger, but I gave it up when I married Wilfred. Oh how I miss him. It won't be long until it will have been fifteen years since I lost him. We used to live by the sea at the time and Wilfred would go out in his boat with Mr Allen, the gentleman who used to live next door to us. Anyhow, the day they went out started out bright and cheery, the sun was out and the waves were calm. However, they took such a terrible turn. I remember Lily, Mrs Allen, coming over to me and we waited in fear for our husbands to return safely. Unfortunately, as you probably can tell, they did not. Well, after Wilfred's funeral I could not stay where I was, so I moved to London. I used the majority of my money to secure 221b Baker Street for myself and live independently. Margret, my sister, offered me a place at her home in Devon but I declined.

I should not have sprung such a depressing subject upon you… Oh what does it matter? You are only ink and paper. I better start that stew.


	4. January 6th

**_6_****_th_****_ January _**

I will have to confiscate Mr Holmes' revolver. Although I appreciate his patriotism, I don't appreciate holes in my wall, thank you very much. Speaking of Mr Holmes, I had better check if he will be eating tonight. He is a funny man in his little queer ways with his mysteries and pipes.

Turns out he will not be eating until 'the day after next.' I am afraid it will just be sandwiches for Dr Watson this evening... and the next.

You will never guess what happened…

Right, I popped to 223 Baker Street to ask Mrs Turner if she could lend me some sugar as I forgot to purchase some the other day. When I arrived, she seemed to be distressed and very much out of character.

"Oh Mrs Hudson!"

"What is wrong Mrs Turner? Are you ill? Shall I fetch a doctor?"

"No, no… It is Miss Taylor!"

"What about Miss Taylor?"

Mrs Turner informed me that since the last time we had spoken, she had noticed a most awful change in the young Miss Taylor. Mrs Turner told me, after an incredible amount of wailing, that the young woman that had occupied her upper rooms had gone out at the ungodly hours of the fourth without a word and had not returned. Not even a note had been left by her tenant to say where she had disappeared to. The day she went missing, Miss Taylor seemed to be fine and well until the post arrived and she received a letter. Mrs Turner had begged me to talk to Mr Holmes about the situation, in which I had reminded her of the many things that have been thrown at me when I had disturbed his chain of thought. Books, pipes, violin bows, knives and as I knew he was tremendously bored, I may have had the dining table aimed at me. But with even all this in consideration, Mrs Turner insisted and so I was compelled to accept.

And so I returned in anticipation and knocked cautiously at the door of the sitting room. I waited a few seconds for a reply, which was more of a clatter than a reply, before Mr Holmes' face appeared at the door.

"Hello Mrs Hudson. The answer is no if you are about to ask about luncheon…" He said quickly, spinning round on his heels attempting to shut the door behind him. I intercepted it with my foot, clearing my throat and pushing my way through.

"Mr Holmes, I know you are not busy…"

"How do you know that?"

"But Mrs Turner at 223 has a slight problem that she wishes to consult you over."

Mr Holmes sighed and went to sit himself in front of his microscope, lighting up another cigarette.

"She isn't going to ask me to find Toby (Toby being Mrs Turner's ginger cat) again?" He muttered.

"No," I replied, giving him a stern look. "It is about her lodger, Miss Taylor."

"Has she gone missing?"

"Yes in a matter of fact."

"Well about time something interesting happened!"

He stood up suddenly, gasping my shoulders and moving me to sit on the sofa, before he flung himself into his armchair.

"Please, Mrs Hudson, tell me all and spare no detail for it can be of more importance than it may seem."

I repeated to Mr Holmes all that Mrs Turner had reported to me and told him that he would be better off talking to the women herself if he wished for a more in depth account of the matter. He sat silently for well over ten minutes before deciding on what actions to take, settling on taking me back to 223 and hearing what else Mrs Turner had to say.

So off we went and once again the story was given again. If I hear it again I may go barmy! Mr Holmes has not come up with a solution as of yet, however he will no doubt have the whole thing wrapped up in no time!


	5. January 7th

_I am sorry this fic has been so slow at the moment. I've either been busy or ill and occasionally both (this also applies to the terrible quality of this chapter.) Anyway, as always, enjoy!_

* * *

**_7_****_th_****_ January_**

Mr Holmes spent last evening round at Mrs Turner's examining Miss Taylor's room; to the great despair of Dr Watson, who had purchase good wine to celebrate his friend's birthday, to which I had been complete ignorant to. He invited me to the sitting room for a glass and we chatted over how we were and what had been happening as if we were long parted friends. Bless him... He is a sweet soul is Dr Watson. He is always thinking of others and never himself. There have been time when I have caught him scorning Mr Holmes for being rude to a client, to spend his change on those lads that help out Mr Holmes (I'm sure this is part out of generosity and part out of Mr Holmes' insistence) and there have been a few times he has worked himself so much that he made himself quite ill. I occasionally compare my lodgers and of course, if you saw them across the street you would see chalk and cheese. However, I have noted their similarities. They both work very hard in their professions, both fight personal demons and both good men as far as I am concerned. They complement each other very well and what one lacks, the other is sure to compensate.

The doctor and I have decided to celebrate Mr Holmes' when his case is all over. Goodness knows when that will be… It will be awfully belated if it carries on until February!


End file.
